


en l'air

by dustywings



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustywings/pseuds/dustywings
Summary: For the entire night, and the morning to follow, you take her apart socarefully. You pull, and push, andtouchwith your hands, your tongue, your fingertips until she is a quivering mess andbegging. You shut your eyes, her moans loud and wonderful in your ears, and spread your palms over her naked breasts.Each time your fingers dive into her, she does this beautiful thing of arching her back and crying out.Her nails cause you to bleed.And as she clutches to you, more and more frantic, you can recall Eren’s words in your head the moment you came home.Him saying,if you break her heartagain–





	en l'air

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching the new House of Cards season, and one of my favourite characters said a line which _hit_ me. 
> 
> To be honest, I am completely in love with the fantasy that Ymir lives in the shadows with Queen Historia. There is so much I can write about when it comes to this AU (and mebbe it will be canon one day who knows). So, this oneshot basically wrote itself. Enjoy!

‘Would you rather I wait for you in the ballroom?’

Victory.

The Queen surrenders. Around you, though, it’s difficult not to. 

She wears blue today. Baby blue. Once, you would have found the colour suiting. But when you look at this woman, all you can see is red. Dark, _dark_ red, splotched all down her dress and dripping from her fair skin. 

There is a speech to be voiced. Deaths to be mourned. A Royal’s duty seems so confined and routine some days. She has started to hate it, and you can tell. 

You are not invited. You cannot be present.

As far as her people are concerned, your loyalty is uncertain. They don’t like you. So, for the sake of not causing upset, the Queen has advised you to remain within locked doors. At least, then, the rumours will begin to evaporate.

The ballroom is metaphoric. 

Obviously.

You’re mocking her. She turns to look at you, and makes the mistake to empathise. _This isn’t how it’s supposed to be_. Funny how, now with the Crown dangling from her fragile skull, you are the one being left behind. 

So, just to soften the blow, you smile.

‘What if I can’t find you when I arrive?’

She is playing with your game. 

Yet, there’s something so _tragic_ in her question.

‘I’m pretty tall. You’ll find me.’

For a while, she says and does nothing; watches you, frowning, trying to understand you. It is remarkable how much you have both aged since you were last together. Before you revealed your “gift”, and before she revealed her true name. Before, when it was better, and maybe you both had a chance at happiness.

The Queen inhales sharply. _You suffocate her_.

People wait for her arrival. Once again, you are the cause of her delay. Feeling merciful, you turn away. 

Wave as you depart.

 

 

 

 

Afterwards, it is dark, and you haven’t bothered to turn on the lights.

She meets you on the top floor, where you sit on the bottom step. There is a storybook in your hands, and she starts to read with you. The Queen sits beside you, a lovely, familiar presence. 

You like the pictures.

When the Queen looks up at you, she’s worried.

‘Can you read this?’

It hurts that she can decipher you so well.

Trying not to show this, you turn the page. You have no idea what the story is about, and it is in a language you have not been taught to read or write. 

Miraculously, you kept your disadvantage hidden during your military years.

Then _she_ happens.

‘Ymir?’

Closing the book, you ask, ‘How did it go?’

The speech. The meeting. Acknowledging the dead. Pretending there _isn’t_ a Titan Shifter in her Palace walls.

She is studying you. Her eyes are wandering. And they are _gorgeous_ eyes. 

A wicked storm of blue. _Ice_. Cold and killing and shadowed with a childhood of horror. Yet, when around you only, they’re like waves. Passionate, angry, gentle, _desperate_. You love her, and you love her eyes, and you love her.

She can study you for _hours_. Count each freckle across your cheeks. The way you tilt your head, how you breathe around her and different people; your smile, your voice, your eyes, _your eyes_ –because they betray you like nothing else. She sees a _girl_ in those eyes. Harmless and hated.

Then, the Queen stands, and walks down the stairs. 

‘I think you should wait for me in the ballroom.’

 

 

 

 

For the entire night, and the morning to follow, you take her apart so _carefully_. You pull, and push, and _touch_ with your hands, your tongue, your fingertips until she is a quivering mess and _begging_. You shut your eyes, her moans loud and wonderful in your ears, and spread your palms over her naked breasts.

Each time your fingers dive into her, she does this beautiful thing of arching her back and crying out. 

Her nails cause you to bleed.

And as she clutches to you, more and more frantic, you can recall Eren’s words in your head the moment you came home. 

Him saying, _if you break her heart_ ** _again_** –

 

 

 

 

A courtesy is a challenge to master.

Your balance has always been perfection. They don’t call you _dancer_ for nothing. 

However, it isn’t the _balance_ which a courtesy necessarily demands. It is grace and elegance, and stability. All things you’ve never had. 

They bow and courtesy so well, and she looks at you in the crowd of military soldiers. She doesn’t expect anything. She knows you’ll follow her to the very depths of Hell, and go even further beyond that. 

You may not be able to courtesy like they can. But, you can drop to your knees like any peasant. 

‘I don’t care,’ she says, when you’re both alone, and she’s struggling out of her ridiculous uniform. ‘I don’t care if you bow, or courtesy, or–’ she faces you sharply, ‘–stick your middle finger at me. I don’t care. I just need you to be here. I need you to stay with me, and support me, and…’

Walking over, you calmly take her hands from the strings of her dress. Help her. You’re patient with her robes, her uniform, and you relish in the slow falling away of her clothes. The naked skin for you to see. The strings are undone, and you slip your hands into her dress, before pulling it off her body.

Her eyes are on yours, steady, tired, wanting. You can feel her breath on your lips.

‘I’m rambling. Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s cute.’

‘It’s _annoying_.’

‘And cute.’ You kiss her nose. She scrunches up her face. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get the hang of it. In the meantime, I’ll show my loyalty in other ways.’ When you grin, she narrows her brows, confused. Oh, you love it when she tries to figure out what you’re thinking. ‘Just you watch me.’

Then, your hands are on her hips, and you hoist her up onto the edge of the bed. She gasps, smiles, and runs her fingers through your hair while you spread her legs. The moment your tongue touches her clit, she _pulls_. 

It doesn’t take long for the orgasm to shatter through her. She exclaims, echoing the chamber, and you could go mad at how _amazing_ she sounds. Then, urgent, frantic, beginning to panic, she yanks you towards her.

And she’s rough. Dominant. Completely lost in the euphoria you’ve guided her to. She straddles your hips, her tongue in your mouth, her hands _ripping_ at your clothes. Her mouth is hot on your breast and you shudder, pressing your lips together, and trying not to make any noise.

Then she is kissing your mouth again, and her fingers are inside you, and you start to breathe erratically, cling onto her, and try so hard not to _destroy_ this person you’re aiming to be, because _fuck_ –

_What she_ **_does_ ** _to you._

Her lips scatter kisses down your neck, she nips at your earlobe, pulls at your lower lip, and kisses you desperately. 

It becomes clear why. 

She hasn’t forgotten what you did, and you’re nearly reduced to tears when you realise she hasn’t forgiven you either.

You abandoned her. Left her alone on the battlefield. 

She makes that so very clear when she makes love to you. Once the crown is dismantled, and her uniform carelessly thrown to the floor; when she's not Queen anymore. When she’s not Historia Reiss anymore. 

When she is the girl you knew from the start. 

Manipulated by a Family who spat at her feet; tortured by a society which scorn her for existing; and, then, forced to sit on a Throne which does _not_ belong to her. She doesn’t _want_ it. She _hates_ it, but she has no choice. And in order to achieve this monstrosity of a privilege, she had to murder her own Father.

Then there’s you. 

You, the nightmare of her story.

When you take her, she gasps and grabs onto you, riding your fingers. She lets out a high-pitched moan; kisses you, then retreats slightly. 

She _is_ beautiful.

‘I’m _sorry_ ,’ you whisper.

Her body goes tense, and she comes, tears falling from her cheeks.

 

 

 

 

The military skip around you like frightened puppies. It’s not easy, trusting a Shifter, especially one who turned her back on Humanity. _If_ that can really be considered a betrayal. Frankly, you’re not too fussed what Humanity think of you; after all, you did everything for the Queen.

Still. They’re wary, and you believe they have every right to be.

Captain Levi hates you. That much is certain when he only looks at you once, and decides he has far more interesting errands to address.

Eren doesn’t, though. In a way, you’ve both respected each other from afar. Until the day Reiner and Bertolt kidnapped you two, and you had no other option but to refuse Eren’s plea for help. Over the years since then, the boy has clearly grown up. He smiles more, holds himself with better confidence, seems to genuinely _enjoy living_. Which is rare nowadays when the world is going to shit.

‘It’s a secret that we’re getting on with each other,’ he says.

‘Oh, I _love_ secrets.’

‘Mikasa would kill me if she found out.’

You smirk. ‘Ask her to come round. Be part of the fun.’

Eren pauses, watching you, and you’re not sure if he watches you fondly or with puzzlement.

‘Palaces don’t suit you one bit.’

‘Thanks for that _brilliant_ deduction.’ You lower your gaze. ‘Anyway. The money isn’t why I’m here.’

‘I know.’ Eren snorts. ‘I think _everybody_ knows.’

That frightens you. 

People have been talking. People have been whispering. People have been screaming.

A Titan wanders the Palace gardens.

Shifters don’t have a place beside a Human Queen. 

‘Well,’ you scowl. ‘Everybody can go _fuck_ themselves.’

 

 

 

 

The first time Mikasa lays eyes on you, she tries to impale you.

It would have been a clean stab. Right through your heart. That is, if the Queen didn’t come to your rescue before the blade _hit_. You have never witnessed her move so quickly, with such concentration and skill. She blocked the attack like it was nothing, and you’re left in awe.

Eren grabs Mikasa by the collar. ‘She’s not–!’

‘You try and hurt her again, I will _rip you apart_.’

The silence is awkward, heavy and threatening. You look between Mikasa and the Queen, and it’s clear who has won. Mikasa’s expression is impossible to read and, poor girl, she can’t help herself.

She _vowed_ to murder you.

You have _never_ heard the Queen speak that way to _anybody_.

Sheathing her blade, Mikasa looks at you. She doesn’t like you. She doesn’t trust you. She hates the fact you’re around her Queen constantly, and she could be in potential danger. But if anybody knew you at all, they’d know you wouldn’t _ever_ hurt her. _Never_. 

Protecting the Queen is all you care about.

You don’t need to say a word, though.

The Queen doesn’t wait for an apology. She’s furious. 

As she turns on her heel, you both share a quick glance, and her eyes scream, 

_You’re_ ** _mine_**.

 

 

 

 

The two of you fall into each other, like pieces to a puzzle.

 

 

 

 

As you kiss her to sleep, she strokes your cheeks and whispers

_I love you I love you I love you_

Not even _death_ could drag you away from this girl.

 

 

 

 

Eventually, the military submit. 

They grant you with uniform, a name to go by, and, just like that, you’re a soldier again.

As if nothing ever happened. 

It feels weird, fastening your Manoeuvre Gear across your thighs and upper body. You forgot about the weight. With a little bit of practice, you’ll be up to speed again. You’re not worried. The military never _worried_ you. After all, war is all you know. If there was no war, _then_ you would worry.

Slicing the nape of a Titan’s neck is easier than you remember.

You imagine yourself being _sliced_ open, too.

Eren exceeds you by a small amount, and Mikasa–you won’t even bother to compete with her. As the months pass on, and you’re able to show where your loyalty lies, Mikasa starts to ease around you. Only slightly. 

But it’s something, at least.

 

 

 

 

You return to the Palace in dirt. You return to the Palace clean and untouched. You return to the Palace with your hair in disarray, your uniform torn, and bloody. Those days are which the Queen dreads most. Because those days, you’re in such a mess, she can’t tell whose blood is whose.

She takes apart your uniform, and has the nurse check on your injuries. Always, you’re fine. _You heal fast, after all_. 

But you worry her. It isn’t like before, where you can _both_ fly into the battlefield together. 

Now, you and she are older, and she wears the crown, while you fight in the mud.

She kisses you; her cheeks flushed from the steam emitting from your wounds. Presses herself into you, and never lets you go.

 

 

 

 

The Queen’s forgiveness is expressed _softly_ and gradually. Delicate hands across your skin, stroking and caressing; her lips, like petals, no longer hurried and rough. She kisses you as if you were so easily _broken_. 

Rocking her hips up against yours, buried in each other, moving to meet her touch with yours.

‘ _Oh–_ ’ she gasps.

You sit upright, and kiss her cheeks. She lowers her head, and captures your lips with her own. 

So lost in each other, you haven’t had the time to completely remove your uniform. Nor she, her dress; and it’s harmonious. The way you both are. You manage to find each other in the midst of fabric and weaponry and war. 

‘ _Krista_ –’

‘Don’t,’ she reminds you. 

You open your eyes, ashamed you had, for just a second, _forgotten_.

It is easy to erase _before_. It is _easier_ to think the time you were both apart never happened. You never showed her what you are, and she never told you who she is. That kind of life, that ignorance, you almost _miss_.

So does she. Back then, you would be _happier_.

But–

‘Stay. Like this. With me. _Stay_.’

You look at her. _Stay here, in our present, with me_. Never mind the Palace, never mind what lurks beyond the Walls, never mind the military, never mind. 

You’re here, with her, and _that_ is your happiness.

That’s what your happiness is.

_Her_.

 

 

 

 

 

This night, you return to the Palace unscathed. 

When you see the girl, she’s exhausted and she has missed you. You’ve missed her as well, but it’s witnessing her in this state which makes your heart swell: just a nighty, hair down, looking _fragile_. The very thing she _isn’t_.

You’ve thrown your jacket over the back of the chair. Really, those _wings_ sewn into the back don’t sit comfortably. Besides, you’ve never needed wings in order to soar.

Offering out your hand to her, you smirk, like a child. Devilish and young.

‘I waited for you in the ballroom, Historia.’

At once, she smiles, and it is as if her face has blossomed. God, what you would _give_ for her.

‘I hope you didn’t wait too long.’ 

She takes your hand, and you guide her towards you. Closer still, until your chests are pressed together, and you both dance to a song which doesn’t exist. You spin her around, and watch her nighty flutter around her knees. 

Then, she crashes back into you, and she embraces you so lovingly, you could _die_.

It may have taken an eternity. An eternity, until she’s prepared to breathe again.

You’re still here.

And so is she.

‘I love you.’

Raising herself, she smiles, and kisses you quiet.


End file.
